Mr. Williams, having detached the rope from the bucket, fastened it around his waist, and telling Old Dick to hold on to the crank and let the rope unwind slowly, began to descend into the well, holding on to the sides with his hands and feet.
"Oh, dear me!" muttered Old Dick, as he unwound the rope; "ef he wuz ter lose his holt, en de cord wuz ter break, wot wo'd become ob po' Joby den?"
"Here he is!" Mr. Williams cried from the bottom of the well.
"Dade, I reckon?" said Old Dick.
"No," said Mr. Williams; "for a wonder he is alive. Wind up the rope, Richard."
Old Dick slowly wound up the rope. We were leaning over the well frame, peering anxiously into its black depths, when Mr. Williams came in sight, bearing in his arms poor Job? No. What? Job's turkey.
Dinah and I shouted with laughter, but Old Dick looked more distressed than ever.
"Where's Joby?" he cried. "You ain't gone en lef him dade at de bottom ob de well?"
"No," said Mr. Williams; "he is not there."